


20/20

by desolateskies



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Slice of Life, alex newell can fight me for my right to curse istg, but elias wears old man bifocals because FUCK him, but isn't that just all tma fics?, i am allowed to swear and go relatively wild, i mean...jonmartin if you squint, pre-shit going down (early s1 or pre-podcast), the beholding reels you in with that sweet sweet 20/20 vision, unedited and written in like 10 minutes because we live like cowards and die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desolateskies/pseuds/desolateskies
Summary: the original archives gang have a collective tobey macguire spiderman moment and refuse to question it (minimal elias-intervention needed).





	20/20

Jonathan Sims had always worn glasses. Georgie had once insisted that it added to the “nerd hot” look that he barely managed to pull off as a well-caffeinated student. Now, as a newly-appointed archivist with premature streaks of gray at his temples, he wasn’t sure if his glasses did anything but hide the dark bags under his eyes. Maybe that’s why he still wore them (albeit with the lenses poked out and replaced with cheap plastic substitutes). 

He may have always worn glasses, but he didn’t need to anymore.

The change had happened shortly after he was appointed Head Archivist. Sometime between laying down for a short nap in his hidden cot and waking up groggily seven hours later, something had shifted. He’d blinked awake, squinting at the world as he fumbled for his glasses to make sense of the blurry shapes that surrounded him. Surely, they were somewhere around-

They were on his face, pressing indentations into the bridge of his nose. Without the slightest hint of doubt, Jon was suddenly aware that he didn’t need them anymore, that he would never need them again. He should probably…get his vision checked by an optometrist, or make sure nothing else strange had happened while he was asleep. He’d known that a job in the Archives—hell, a job in the Magnus Institute in general—could lead to weird, unexplainable phenomena, but wasn’t that his job? To explain the unexplainable?

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said aloud, voice hoarse with sleep and the push behind the words not entirely his own. If he was talking to himself already, it was going to be a long night. As he climbed out of the cot, all cracking joints and sore muscles, he idly wondered if he should make himself some tea. Martin kept his favorite blend in the break room, and always took care to restock cream and sugar as it ran low (which was almost always Tim's fault). The confusion of the moment melted away, and by the time he ambled out of the old storage room in the chill of the archives, it was all but forgotten.

For once in his life, the ever-cynical Jonathan Sims refused to look a gift horse in the mouth, and two floors above in the bureaucratic heart of the institute, Elias Bouchard managed a weary smile. Soon, his Archivist wouldn’t be so easy to manipulate.

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell that i’m american by the way I spelled “gray”? caw caw motherfuckers alex can’t stop me from swearing now.
> 
> but yeah, this is the longer version of that hc i posted in the rusty quill discord a few days ago. the nonsense in my brain wants o u t.


End file.
